The Fair

All through the night and pre-dawn darkness Monday, I heard steady rain.  How much do I love to sleep to the sound of rain?  And yet, I fretted in that fuzzy space between consciousness and unconsciousness because we planned to go to the fair first thing Monday morning.

We loaded up our four kids, plus an extra two year old and a spare four year old.  We were on the road by 9:45 a.m. and arrived at the fair shortly after it opened.

By then, only drizzle fell from the cloudy skies.  All the rides were wet, of course, but the ride operators wiped them off and so little bottoms only got a bit wet.  The best part about our early arrival on this damp day was that the kids didn’t have to wait in any lines.  In fact, the ride operators waited for us to approach. 

My husband and I split up–he took the big kids and I took the small kids.  My daughter turns out to be just like me–she loved every single ride, only refusing those which spun high into the air (comparatively speaking–they were all little-kid rides).  She rode with her buddy while the two-year old was content to watch from his stroller. 

The only happening of note was when a particular ride operator and I both buckled in my daughter–our hands touched.  No big deal except then while my daughter spun in circles, the ride operating woman began to share too much information:  “My better half went and got me a coffee.” 

Me:  (Nod, smile tightly)  That’s nice.

Her:  Yeah, I have a really sore throat but hot liquids help.

Me:  (ACK!  WE TOUCHED HANDS!)  Oh. 

Her:  Yeah, I made an appointment for Friday at 10:40, but I’ll have to take off some time.

Me:  (NEED TO WASH HANDS!  MUST FIND SINK!)  I hope you feel better soon.

Then, I promptly forgot all about it and didn’t wash  my hands.  I’m a sorry excuse for a germaphobe.  We did later use the bathroom and wash afterwards, so I can only hope I didn’t transfer any of sick-ride-lady’s germs to myself.   

After meeting up with my husband again and eating lunch (again, no lines), we headed toward the animal barns and saw horses, llamas, chicks, ducks, turkeys, goats, sheep and pigs.  (We did wash our hands after touching animals.)

And the sun came out!  The crowds began to build, too, and I congratulated myself on our early arrival.

We would have greeted Dora the Explorer (live, in a gigantic fuzzy costume), but I refused to stand in such a long line with my daughter who would probably not have let Dora touch her long enough for a picture to be snapped.  Plus, they were trying to get us to pay big money for a photograph and I wasn’t about to play along.

I did not see anything that I would have seen if I didn’t have children.  No retail booths.  No quilt displays.  No 4-H demonstrations.  No produce.  I didn’t even eat any fair food, nor did I ride a roller coaster.  I had no time to sit and study people.

But boy, the new Sillyville area of the fair, created just for children was quite delightful.

And we were home by 2:00 p.m.  (My husband took my 8-year old son back for the afternoon and evening.  Now, that is a boy after my own heart, a kid who wants to ride all the rides, see all the stuff and stay at the fair until the last light flickers off.)

This is the real, true official end of summer for me.  Blink.  All gone.